4) La Primera Semana

So I guess I did get busy–but I didn’t forget about the blog.  It’s been a while since I’ve written but I’ll try to catch up on the last two weeks.  I definitely won’t remember to include everything, but I consider that a blessing given the amount of time it takes me to write one of these posts.

First off, school.  We start class at 9:00 every morning after a 30-minute commute via bus and foot across town.  Our bus is timed such that we arrive on time only if we make all of the stoplights en route.  Thus far, that’s only happened once so we have decided to start riding the earlier bus.

When we do finally get there, class lasts until 2:15 with a short 5-minute break every hour and a 30-minute break starting at 10:50.  A typical school day is divided into three classes:  two hours with Katia, two hours with Jorge, and one hour with Gemma.  I believe the first two classes are supposed to be divided into vocabulary and grammar, but my group (elementary) knows so little Spanish that they end up running together.  The third is an ‘engineering’ class where we learn vocabulary pertaining to engineering, energy, and business.  These classes are taught almost exclusively in Spanish–some of the teachers don’t actually know (much) English.  They call it ‘immersion’ and from what I can tell it’s working pretty well.  When I got here, I could understand NOTHING and say even less.  Two weeks later, I’m constructing basic sentences, my vocabulary has expanded exponentially, and I can understand much of what is said around me.  Albeit I have a long way to go, but we will take a test in the coming week to determine what we have learned and whether we are ready for the next level.  I’ve got a feeling I’ll move up, as will most (if not all) of my class.

The Spanish Institute where I will study for 5 weeks.

The River Arga, as seen from the school.

More of the view from the school.

Our program includes engineering students from Alabama and Clemson, and business and nursing students from Auburn.  We spend a lot of time together and go almost everywhere as a group, usually no smaller than four or five.  I think we all enjoy being able to speak English to one another, and usually there is someone in the group who knows enough Spanish to communicate for all of us.  We eat lunch twice a week with all of the students in our program in the restaurant below the school.  The food here is hit or miss, and we always have two menu options for each day.  We also take a school-sponsored exhibition at least once a week that includes the entire program (except Clemson students) and a few of our instructors.  On the Saturday of our first week we visited San Sebastian on the northern coast of Spain.  I elected to spend an extra day there with Arik and some friends and we had an incredible time–more on that later, when I have time to post about the trip specifically.

After school, we will usually eat lunch (around 2:30) and hang around the old city in a bar until around 6:00.  After that, we head home for a siesta or homework, then eat dinner with our host family around 9:00.  Thus far, we have yet to explore much of the city.  The weather has been dreadful, and the locals say it is unusual for this time of year.  The temperature on an average day reaches a high around 55, and it’s typically overcast.  On top of that, it’s usually misty or rainy with a brisk wind that rarely dies.  The cold damp days keep us from wandering too far from home but we have managed to see much of the old city and find some excellent restaurants.  The weather is expected to clear up a bit in the next few days (the third week, finally) and we’re really looking forward to enjoying some of Pamplona’s many beautiful parks.

Wine is always served with lunch.

‘Little hands of pork’ translated quite literally. Needless to say I didn’t eat much.

Distorted panoramic view of the northern part of Pamplona from atop the city wall.

A few nights a week, (Tuesdays, Thursdays, and weekends) we meet as a large group in the old city and move from bar to bar enjoying local wines and conversation.  Sometimes we end up in a more club-like bar for dancing and more drinking.  Spaniards will sometimes stay out until 7:00 or 8:00 am, while we typically make it home around 3:00 or 4:00.  On days that we plan to go out we will usually take a siesta in the afternoon, so even on these late nights it’s not very difficult to make it to school and participate in class the next day.  Since our arrival I’ve discovered that I like gin and tonic, which has become a very popular drink in this area.  There is no open container law here, and the streets of the old city are often crowded late at night with people enjoying wine, beer, and mixed drinks.  The locals are typically friendly and we’ve met people from all over Europe while out on the town.

Some of the group in a bar on Estafeta Street, a local hotspot in the old city.

Melissa, Arik, Jorge, Laurie, and me, in that order.

Most of the Alabama and Auburn group in one of our favorite bars in Plaza del Castillo.

3) La Familia

Arik and I arrived at our ‘home’ around 2:30 pm on Saturday.  We were immediately welcomed by our host family, who have proven to be extremely hospitable.  Our family is pretty average by most standards, consisting of a younger couple with two children, a boy of 5 and girl of 10. The kids are adorable and the young boy is hilarious.  I suppose he gets it from his father, who is quite animated and popular with the children.  Their mother speaks some English, and their father a little as well, but they have been asked to address us primarily in Spanish.  Arik speaks well enough to hold conversation with them, and will interpret for me when he can.  I’m picking it up bit by bit, and the current situation only encourages me to learn quickly.

The community here is close-knit, and our family is well acquainted.  Grandmother lives nearby although we have not met her yet.  Many of the families have small children as well, and they are allowed to run and play freely while parents socialize nearby.  Our host family’s children have many friends their age, some we met today.  The other families are friendly and a few of the children speak some English.

Our family’s two-level apartment sits in the northern part of the city, in a ‘village’ known as Ansoain.  It is small, but modern and efficient.  The parents and children sleep upstairs, where the kitchen, bathroom (yes, singular), and living room are also found.  This leaves the entire bottom floor to Arik and myself.  We share a small bedroom with bunk beds, and the basement even has its own entrance so that we can come in late at night without disturbing the family.  In short, it’s almost perfect.

The room Arik and I share in our host family’s apartment.

One of the first things they explained to us was the lighting setup of the house, and they asked us to turn lights off when exiting a room.  Energy is very expensive here and the locals are very efficiency-minded.  Recycling is also a necessity, with separate trash cans for paper, plastic, and organics.  The streets are lined with small, efficient cars, bus stops, and large recycling bins.  All toilets are low-flow, and have two separate flush buttons which release different amounts of water when pressed.  The thermostat in the basement functions differently than ours as well:  in addition to setting the desired temperature, you set a time allocation which determines the time the system is allowed to reach the desired temperature.

2) The voyage

So obviously, I speak very little Spanish–for now at least.  I can understand some when it is spoken slowly with basic vocabulary.  Unfortunately, most Spaniards do not speak slowly, which complicates things for me.

Despite my lingual deficiency, my travels thus far have gone exceptionally well.  I had almost no problem with the flight here.  I say almost because I nearly missed my plane in Boston.  (I flew EVV -> ORD -> BOS -> MAD).  I understood going in that I would probably have to switch terminals in Boston, and I assumed a one hour layover would be plenty of time to do it.  I’m used to airports like ATL and ORD, where the terminals are all directly connected in some way, and travel between them is a non-issue.  This is not the case in Boston.  I got off the plane from Chicago in terminal B, and my plane to Madrid left from terminal E.  Rather than catch a train from one terminal to the other, I had to exit the terminal (security checkpoint included), catch a shuttle bus to E, enter the new terminal through securtiy, and find my gate.  At first I didn’t know where I was headed, and after I figured it out I spent a while waiting on the shuttle (only one runs to E).  When I finally did get there, I got stuck at the end of an EXTREMELY slow line through the security checkpoint.  I was sure I would miss my flight, but TSA rushed me through security after I showed them my boarding pass.  When I made it to the gate, they were giving the last call for myself and a couple other passengers.  Not sure if they made it…

I later learned that Jenna had left her purse with all of her cash and cards on the previous flight (the same as mine), and nearly left it in Boston.  Thankfully, an airport employee rushed it to her and it arrived about the time I did.  I think her near miss bested mine.

We got off the plane in Madrid at 6:20 am local time (11:20 pm CDT).  The sun was just starting to rise and the temperature was in the 50s.  Jenna and I made it through customs, collected our luggage (no lost bags!), and exchanged some currency.  (Note: If traveling abroad, don’t convert too much currency in the airport!  They charge ~10% fee, which is much more than it typically costs to just use a credit or debit card.  I got €69 for $100, versus €76 at the actual exchange rate.)  After we exited the secure terminal, she headed to catch her plane to Seville while I headed for the bus to the train station.

The inside of Madrid Barajas Terminal 4, which really impressed me.

I managed to catch the next bus from the airport.  It makes only four stops on its route so I easily found my way to the train station.  The bus had free wi-fi on board, which allowed me to send a few quick Google Voice text messages to my parents (send me a Facebook message if you want the number).  On the way, I couldn’t help but notice how well Madrid’s roads were maintained despite their age, and how small their foreign cars were.  There is almost no overlap in the models of cars seen here and in the U.S., with the closest being small BMWs and Audis, which are often diesel.  When I got off the bus, I headed up the street to the hostel Residencia Fernandez, where I had reserved a room for one night.  At €30/night for my own room and just a 5 minute walk from the station it was a great deal.  The older Spaniards running the place spoke ZERO English but I got checked in and unpacked quickly despite it.  I hadn’t slept but 4-5 hours in the last 36, so I spent much of the day sleeping.  I decided to try a Thai restaurant just a block away for dinner because I thought for some reason that they may have spoken English.  They didn’t.

The vividly colored Airport Express, which I rode to the Madrid Atocha train station.

I got up around 6:15 the next morning and checked out of the hostel by 6:30.  I made the short walk to the train station and caught the high-speed train to Pamplona at 7:35.  The ride was just over three hours, and I sat next to a pretty Spanish girl on the way.  It turns out that she had spent some time at UCLA and was fluent in English–she spoke it better than many Americans.  She explained to me that she was 29 years old, lived in Madrid, and had just finished her PhD in finance.  She was on her way to Pamplona to visit her boyfriend, a professor at one of the local universities (a job she would take as well in the fall).  She taught me a lot during those three hours, while we discussed some of the subtleties of the Spanish language, the European soccer league (especially as it pertained to Madrid), and a brief explanation on her dissertation about economic indicators and her work at UBS in Frankfurt (the financial headquarters of Europe).  I never did catch her name, which I regret now.  Anyhow, she scolded me for not having sampled the Spanish gastronomy (as it is called here), and she told me about the famous pilgrimage to Campostela de Santiago.  The pilgrimage originated in Christianity and is made by many travelers (on foot) today.  It typically starts in southern France and passes through Pamplona en route to eastern Spain.  ‘Expect many pilgrims’ she said, and she was correct.  When we got off the train, she pointed me in the right direction and we said our goodbyes.

The Madrid Atocha train platform with its collection of high-speed trains.

A castle in nearby Olite as seen from the train.

From there, I made my way across town to the Hostel Hemingway, named for Ernest Hemingway who brought fame to this area with “The Sun Also Rises.”  I checked into room number 3 which contained 6 bunk beds.  Ultimately, three more of these beds would fill, one by my soon-to-be roommate Arik who arrived later that afternoon, one by a retired Canadian tax auditor on his way to Compostela de Santiago, and one by a young man from Colorado visiting a friend for the week.  The hostel was small but very well equipped and staffed.  All three of the rotating staff, who must’ve been in their 20s, spoke at least a little English and were very friendly and helpful.  Most importantly, they recommended excellent restaurants in Casco Antigua (the old city) and provided us with maps printed in English.  Arik and I spent two nights at Hostel Hemingway before moving to our host family’s residence on Saturday.

The small room we shared at Hostel Hemingway, with Arik at left.

Common Room at Hostel Hemingway where we spent much of our time.

Poster at Hostel Hemingway where we left our mark.

1) Introduction

Starting Wednesday, May 15, I will spend six weeks in Pamplona, Spain, studying the Spanish language and culture, with emphasis on their ‘green’ societal trends.  I am with a small group of students from the University of Alabama (16 I think), all with an engineering background (I believe).  While here, we have been asked to read “Hot, Flat, and Crowded” by Thomas L. Friedman to complement our experiences.

On the 6+ hour trans-Atlantic flight here I sat next to a girl named Jenna from Chicago, on her way to Seville to study Spanish as well.  We talked about a lot of things, and at one point she told me of her idea to blog about her time here.  At first I was hesitant, but after my roommate Arik started one of his own, I decided to try it.  Blogging actually makes sense to me for a lot of reasons:  the prohibitive cost of communicating via phone with friends and family in the states, the ability to share both stories and photos, and to keep some record of my travels for my own recollection later (since my memory is so terrible).  Blogging also gives me an opportunity to write openly, something I haven’t done in quite some time.  So whether anyone reads this or not, at least I can justify its existence for my own benefit.  I welcome commentary from anyone who happens to follow my posts.  My goal is something that is easy to read and easier to write, not a masterpiece.  Being thorough is in my nature so I won’t promise to be brief, but I can promise that there is much more to say than what you see here.  Maybe I’ll even continue this after my time in Spain is over.  On the other hand, I may get busy and neglect it completely.  We’ll see.

Pamplona is located near Spain’s northern coast and border with France, and is the capital of Navarre.

Pamplona is widely known for the festival of San Fermin, which includes the running of the bulls. It is a celebration of the Catholic martyr Saint Fermin and takes place July 6-14 of every year (which I will miss unfortunately).